They whistled
Walking early with their pals
because the deep cold black coal face

They whistled
Shining hard their Sunday shoes
because their boots could not be clean

They whistled
Reading close their Daily News
because the lock-less outhouse door  

They whistled
Climbing up the muddy *****
because the spiteful  Maxim's fire  

They whistle
When again they think of that
because the screams
because the screams

Out in the night
Young
among
the raging masses
Feeling heroic
without reason
Seeking sensation
without knowing
what to feel
Making it all up
as I went along
Learning the language
of love
in a vicarious
hilarious
wondrous stupor
of righteous alcohol
fermenting bright-eyed
hormones
Spinning on my axis
broken glass
disco ball
fly-eyed
superman

The last bird
in the last tree
will sing
What else
would he do?

they said
take life
take first breath
take a big step
take a chance
don't take life
give it away

Don't paint
your house
yellow
unless
of course
you intend
to expire
there
ensuring
at a stroke
ease in finding
for the noble
ambulance crew
and impossible
to sell
for those
who never
visited
you

Wisdom imparted
from an angled
grand grey person
to young me
as they seated
themselves
pained

I never dwelt
at the time
on its meaning
Was it licence to
be a hedonist
to burn bright
and short?

Or sage instruction
to refuse
time and pain
any influence
or maybe to go
find a cause
a war adventure

to take me early
just as their friends
had been
flaxen haired smiling
innocent of
everything
and never old

I gaze
at my shoes
because
your views
aren't mine
& we never talked
properly
about the big things
the things
that needed saying
and this eye contact
awkwardly brief
has no point
cos you don't
look back
at me
really
even in anger
& I have tattoos  
because your pallid arms
and creamy backs
are not mine
& I can't sing the blues
whatever they are
very well
or well enough
to make me rich